While I read about madness

I'm rereading Veronika decides to die by Paulo Coelho. Paulo is back in my life and once again he's making an impact.

Madness is the inability to communicate your ideas
- Paulo Coelho -

Madness. It is indeed an interesting subject. Is there even such a thing?

Madness is not to be found in the mad person's mind, but rather it is created when the so called mad meets the society. A person is defined as mad because he or she believes in an alternative reality, one that is not accepted by the rest of society.To the mad person, he is the sane one.

I made a promise to always write in all honesty, and it is time I write about this subject. For most of my life I have suffered from depression. I am a control freak, rarely do I let go and just live. I am a perfectionist, rarely do I live up to my own high expectations. For many years this caused me a lot of pain. I looked rationally at my life and saw that everything was perfect, I should have been happy, but somehow I was not. The fact that I was unable to understand why I was unhappy caused me more pain that anything.

Over the last couple of years I have gradually gotten better. The last couple of months I have even seen a psychologist. Because I stopped seeing myself as a victim and realised I was in fact in charge of my own life I have managed to improve it.

However, the last four months have fast tracked my journey towards recovery. I wrote in one of my short stories: "A person independent enough to wear an orange suit would have a hard time falling in love'. For a control freak falling in love might feel like the scariest thing ever. We have built this shield against the world, we have decided to feel nothing in order to not feel pain, we detach, we stick to the safe. Suddenly someone comes along and asks us to feel something, and suddenly we feel it all, all the pain from the past, all the love for our family and friends, all the emotions we have not let ourself feel for so long. Falling in love has not been easy for me and I could not have done it without the most patient and understanding man I know. The man I love because he encourages me to relax and be myself. I love him because he everyday helps me get better.

I have realised that I am happier when I am a little bit mad. Mad is a label we've put on things we don't understand. I am happier when I don't worry about what other people think of me, when I speak what is on my mind without censoring myself, when I share my crazy ideas. I am happiest when I allow myself to be me without worrying. And I admit, I am slightly mad, simply because I sometimes see things a little bit differently to most people. For a writer, who's job is to create alternative worlds and realities, being mad can only be a good thing.

Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.
- Albert Einstein -

All in a day...

... I had breakfast in bed with my boyfriend, I kissed him goodbye and gave him the lunch box I'd made specially for him, I went to work to get training in doing morning shifts, I left work at 9:30 am, I bought a book case, I put the book case together, I got a call from Anna, I had coffee with Anna, we ran into other creative souls, I put my books in my book case, I organised my papers and tidied my room, I sent some long overdue emails regarding my honours thesis, I listened to Damien Rice, I reread some rants I wrote 2 years ago, I got inspired, I did laundry, I made a "Anna and Mari's book of inspiration".

All in a day I've been Mari, the girlfriend; Mari, the cook; Practical Mari; Domestic Mari; Mari, the student; Mari, the writer; Inspired Mari; Organised Mari. And it's only 6:30 pm.

Boyfriend coming for dinner later. Mari, the girlfriend, my favourite, because it somehow has room for all the other ones.

Because you asked me to write

You asked me to start writing again. You told me you miss reading my work. You talked about how great it was during semester when I was all immersed in writing."Write a short story or something, or at least write in your blog" you said.You understand me. You encourage me. I love you for that.


My life has a very different tune these day. I work, work, work. When I have some time off, all I want to do is be with you. I've known you for a little more than 3 months. That is a short but very long time. I've got some amazing memories from our time together. Trip to Sydney, road trips to Queenscliff to buy books, opp-shopping, getting stuck at the library for hours because they had a jigsaw puzzle spread out, available for anyone who cared to have a go, getting to know your amazing friends and family, talks about things that matter, talks about things that don't matter, laughter, so much laughter, things I've never done before, roses, kisses, surprises. So many memories. You are a creative boyfriend, you challenge and surprise me. With you I discover words and sentences for all the feelings I always wanted to express. I've never had a boring moment with you. And I love you for that.

You're learning Norwegian. You're learning it with the same passion and curiosity you throw yourself at books and all new knowledge. You want to know where I came from, you show interest in the background that has made me who I am. When you whisper in my ear: "Du er nydelig kjæresten min", I almost burst into tears, so proud and flattered. And I love you for that.

In bed, we both have a laughing fit because you think the way my lips move when I say "lyset" looks absolutely ridiculous. "Exotically retarded" you call us. You make me laugh. And I love you for that.

You asked me to write, and I could not help it, I wrote about you.